


Things Left Unspoken

by Romiress



Category: Batman (Comics), Deathstroke the Terminator (Comics)
Genre: Bruce Wayne is a Bad Parent, Identity Porn, Jason Todd is Red Hood, M/M, Mute Jason Todd, Muteness, No Set Continuity, POV Joseph Wilson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-03-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:34:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 13,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23062525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Romiress/pseuds/Romiress
Summary: Six months after the events of Under The Hood, Joseph Wilson meets a stranger in a bar. Mute, with a massive scar across his neck, Joseph feels a pang of recognition.He's never met anyone with a story like his.--Inspired byNac-Nic's gorgeous mute Jason art.
Relationships: Jason Todd/Joseph Wilson
Comments: 210
Kudos: 832
Collections: Jason Todd Rare Pair Challenge





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> In addition to the art above, I also wanna credit [Reisling](https://archiveofourown.org/comments/253418897) for giving me some (much earlier) ideas that were incorporated into this AU.

Joey doesn't like the change in this part of Gotham. Once upon a time it was a crappy area, ruled by gangs that, for the most part, left you alone as long as you didn't cause trouble.

Now it's something else entirely.

The Red Hood rules this part of Gotham, and everyone knows it. They know it because they can't possibly forget. It's been eight months since he took control of the area, but the last six have been fundamentally different.

Back when he first took control, Joey would have said that he liked the Red Hood. From what he heard (and he heard a lot, he'd learned a long time ago to keep his ear to the ground so he could tell if pop was in town) the Red Hood was the kind of guy he liked. The kind of guy who had principles, even if he was a criminal.

That wasn't really true any longer. The Red Hood had killed a _lot_ of people. He'd gone from someone those who lived at street level loved, to someone they spoke of only in hushed whispers. It wasn't that he'd started hurting them, but it _was_ the fact that he no longer played nice. He no longer waved to the streetwalkers as he passed by. He no longer visited local convenience stores with his hood on to buy some drinks for himself.

Now it was nothing but violence. Nothing but criminals turning up dead.

Joey wasn't sure how anyone in this part of Gotham was stupid enough to take drugs, let alone _sell_ drugs, but apparently people still did. It'd be quiet for a few weeks, and then some gang or another would see a nice fat empty territory and try and move in.

And maybe a week after that, they'd wind up dead. A lot of the time they wound up dropped right in front of the GCPD. Sometimes the Red Hood would still be there, but even if there were criminals stupid enough to cross him, there certainly wasn't a cop stupid enough to try and arrest him.

It was grim stuff, and Joey was eager to forget. The bar he was visiting was his favorite little hole on the wall, the kind of place that never had a full ten people in it. It wasn't exactly the best place for him, considering none of the bartenders knew ASL, but they were all friendly enough and more than willing to learn. He'd taught them a few quick signs, just enough to get by, and they'd chat away at him while he drank, even if he couldn't talk back.

It was those quick little signs that ended up drawing the attention of the man sitting beside him.

Joey hadn't really paid much attention to him when he came in. It was the kind of bar you went to if you _didn't_ want attention, and the way his shoulders were hunched forward told Joey that he wasn't looking for someone to chat with him. Or at least he wasn't until he caught sight of Joey signing to the bartender and then ever so abruptly sat upright, turning his head to look Joey over.

He was, in Joey's not so humble opinion, cute. He figured the guy couldn't be older than twenty-five, but he'd obviously seen a lot of trouble in his life. There was a cut through his lip that meant his teeth were always showing just a bit, and a tuft of white on his brow that made him look distinguished.

He looked very, very tired though. His jacket was a bit too big for him, pulled tight around his body, and the way it seemed so _large_ made Joey suspect he was using it to hide something.

A weapon? His size? There were a lot of options and none of them were good, but the thought slips straight out of Joey's mind when the guy reaches into his pocket, fishing out his phone and typing away. Only then does he hold it up, showing Joey the screen so he can read it.

_You know ASL?_

_I'm fluent,_ Joey signs, but it's clear to him immediately that the man he's signing at doesn't understand him. He sighs, fishing out his phone, and types his response. _Yes. I'm just mute, not deaf._

Joey's (perfectly fair) assumption is that the man thinks _he's_ deaf, and that's why he's not speaking, so he's surprised when the man goes right ahead and starts typing on his own phone rather than talking.

_Do you know a good private tutor for ASL?_

The question is pretty close to the last thing Joey expects to read, and he has to take a second to process it. The fact is that he learned _years_ ago, and he doesn't remember the names of any of his tutors. He's sure there's good resources, but he has absolutely not idea _where_ someone would find them.

 _Sorry,_ he types. _I learned a long time ago, I wouldn't know who to point you to._

He's not really a part of Gotham's deaf community, so he can't help there either. He can see the man starting to withdraw, his eyes dropping, and Joey does what he can to try and push the conversation on.

 _You're looking to learn for yourself?_ Joey signs, sliding the phone a bit more aggressively into the guy's line of sight.

The guy reaches up, pulling his collar down with one finger. It's impossible to miss the absolutely vicious scar that runs across the side of his throat, still red and raw and healing.

 _Can't talk,_ the man mouths, which really says it all.

Joey doesn't think he's ever related with someone so much in his life. Not even a fraction of a percent of the population is deaf, and even _fewer_ are mute.

People who are mute via trauma?

There's basically no one. Joey's literally never met someone that he's aware of. It's a nearly completely unique experience, and Joey can't help but reach up, pulling his scarf down to show his own scar with a smile.

Only then does he grab his phone, typing out a quick message and showing the other man.

_I'm Joey. I could show you some if you want._

_Jason,_ is the reply. _I'd like that._

As far as first meetings go, it isn't a bad one.


	2. Chapter 2

The first few weeks they meet in public. The part of Gotham they're living in isn't exactly the best area, but thanks to Red Hood's overly active policing style it's still fairly safe. No one's stupid enough to try anything, which means they can grab a bite to eat without having to worry.

Jason is an excellent student. He's quick to pick things up and eager to learn, and when Joey provides him some books and resources, he's surprised to find that Jason goes through _all_ of them by the time they next meet up. ASL grammar is too complex to be picked up overnight, but since both of them are fluent in standard English, it's easy enough to focus on SEE-II, signing English as it would be spoken. It lets Jason pick up vocabulary bit by bit, and once he's memorized finger spellings it means they can have an entire conversation without having to resort to phones.

As Jason learns to sign, Joey learns about him. Jason's cagey about how he became mute, but Joey can't blame him for that at all. The severity of the injury tells him that it was traumatic, sudden, and fairly recent, so he lets it go when Jason says it was a few months ago and doesn't say any more. He learns that Jason works the nightshift, but not where he works, and when Jason keeps fighting with him over who's paying the check, Joey can't resist a joke.

_With the way you keep pulling out bills like this, I'm going to start suspecting your night job is stripping._

Joey only half regrets the joke when Jason goes pink, mumbling silently to himself before signing back.

_Not pretty enough for that._

_You're plenty pretty,_ Joey signs back.

_Scars._

_Some people like those._

It's the first time Joey flirts with Jason, but it's far from the last. Jason is undeniably his type: broad shouldered, extremely fit, peppered with scars that give him a level of mystique, and best of all: _extremely_ shy. Joey can't tell if he's always been so awkward around relationships, if he's not interested in men, or if it's something new that comes with his injury, but Jason does seem to enjoy the flirting, even if it makes him red.

It's been a month and a half since they first met when Jason accepts an invitation back to Joey's for dinner. Neither of them has said _dating,_ but that's what it feels like, and when Joey goes in for a kiss at the end of the night, Jason kisses back.

Deep down, Joey knows that what he's doing is stupid. He knows almost nothing about Jason, and getting involved with him is asking for trouble. He doesn't know where Jason works. He doesn't know where he lives. He doesn't even know Jason's last name. He's a mystery wrapped in a riddle, but Joey has a hard time focusing on any of that when Jason pins him up against the wall of Joey's apartment and kisses him until Joey's lips are red and raw.

It's a very, very bad idea.

 _We should date,_ Jason signs during one of their meetings which is, in effect, a date in everything but name. The fact that Jason's ears goes pink tells Joey that Jason's been thinking it too, even if he didn't want to bring it up. For the most part, Joey's chalked it up to inexperience simply from observation.

But it's just a guess. It's the exact sort of question Jason doesn't answer, so Joey simply doesn't ask.

He lets himself coast through the relationship and tries not to think about the warning signs.

 _You could have surgery to minimize the scar,_ Joey signs one evening. Jason's sprawled out on his couch, half-watching a movie and half-watching Joey himself.

 _Couldn't take the time off,_ Jason signs. He's not kidding, either: Jason's always gone by nine at the latest, and Joey never sees him at night.

 _One day you'll have to tell me where you work, you know,_ Joey signs, hoping his expression will make it clear he's teasing.

Jason's smile makes Joey sure there's some joke he's missing, and he simply shakes his head, going back to the movie.

Joey isn't going to let him though. He waves to draw Jason's attention, signing quickly while he has it.

_I'm serious about the scar though. Mine was way worse when I first got it, but we had some surgery to minimize it. Now a lot of people miss it._

Jason's scar is worse than his ever was, but not by much. In time—and with some surgical help—Jason's will be as minimal as his own is.

 _If this is about money, I could cover it,_ Joey signs. _I don't really talk about it much, but I can afford it._

That's an exaggeration: they _never_ talk about it. As much as Jason is cagey about his own work, Joey doesn't talk about where _his_ money comes from either. He hasn't mentioned his parents to Jason, and he doesn't plan to until he _has_ to.

Jason simply shakes his head, shutting down the conversation, and Joey lets out a sigh, letting it go.

Unfortunately for him, _having to_ comes sooner rather than later.

His phone alerts him there's been a Deathstroke sighting in Gotham, which is the best warning he ever gets that his pop is going to show up. It's not like he actually tells Joey he's coming or anything like that, so _Deathstroke working nearby_ is the Slade Wilson equivalent of calling ahead.

Lo and behold, late that night Joey wakes in the middle of the night to find pop in his room. Joey spends about half a second wondering how he got in (the window?), and then decides it doesn't actually matter in the slightest.

 _I was asleep,_ he signs. For once, he's happy it's not Jason: he's too bleary eyed to read anyone else's signs at all.

"You should move," Deathstroke says. "You're right in the middle of Red Hood's territory."

 _Don't care,_ Joey signs. _Unlike a certain someone, I'm not causing trouble that's going to cause Red Hood to go after me._

"I've been hired to take him out," Slade says simply. "This entire area's going to be at risk. Like I said, you should move."

_Not moving, pop._

"It's in your own best interest—"

_Not moving. Just try to kill the poor guy somewhere else._

"You seem oddly unconcerned."

_Nothing odd about it, pop. You've been blowing in and out of my life for years, and you showing up to kill someone in my neck of the woods isn't something I'm going to be concerned about._

He considers, and then wagers it's probably too late (or too early) for him to actually get back to bed. Instead, he drags himself out of bed, completely ignoring Slade as he heads to the kitchen to get some coffee.

"You should still move. Why are you even here? This part of town is awful."

_It's safe, actually, thanks to the Red Hood._

Slade grunts at that, clearly unhappy by Joey's stubborn refusal to uproot his entire life and move at Slade's convenience.

_So aside from the fact that you're coming to kill the guy who keeps me from getting mugged regularly, what have you been up to?_

Slade is _never_ one for conversation, so he simply grunts and heads out the window while Joey rolls his eyes.

It's going to be a long, long day.


	3. Chapter 3

Joey spends the next few days waiting to hear about the body of Red Hood showing up somewhere. Or, knowing his dad, for Red Hood himself to stop showing up.

He doesn't. The news keeps reporting on Red Hood, and the Red Hood keeps making criminals wet themselves in terror at the thought of him, and Deathstroke's nowhere to be seen.

Joey can't decide if Red Hood fought Deathstroke off, or if Slade backed off because he didn't want Joey to get caught up in things.

In the end, he decides it doesn't really matter; what matters is that Red Hood lives another day, and Joey's area is that much safer for it.

Even if the area is completely run down and in desperate need of repair, it's most definitely _safe._ Non-Red Hood violent crimes drop almost to zero. With the Red Hood's boundaries well defined, Gotham's criminals make the tactical decision to _not_ risk getting shot in the head.

All things considered, a very wise decision.

Jason, he learns, is not as much of a fan. He prefers not to talk about Red Hood, or about crime or the state of the area. Joey's pretty sure he's a local, even if Jason _still_ hasn't invited him back to his place, and there's a decent chance he's been in the area since long before Red Hood moved in.

Once upon a time Joey would have said he doesn't mind not knowing anything about Jason, but as time moves on, he can't help but get antsy. It means something, he guesses, that four months in he still hasn't seen where Jason lives, let alone where he works. There are so many unanswered questions, and even if Joey had meant for them to stay unasked (god knows he has enough secrets that he doesn't need to harass Jason about _his),_ they're starting to bother him just the same.

Things come to a head late one night (or more accurately _very early one morning)_ when Joey wakes to a _thump_ on his door. He's not in the habit of answering _strange mysterious late night knocks on his door,_ but he _is_ in the habit of investigating them. The figure on his apartment step is barely recognizable, curled up in a ball, and it isn't until Joey's already opened the door that he's actually _sure_ who it is, rather than just suspecting.

He taps Jason's shoulder, drawing his attention, and then helps him up and inside. It's clear he's injured just from how he holds himself, but Joey doesn't realize how bad it is until he's helped Jason sit down and starts pulling off his jacket.

There's blood. A _lot_ of blood. Joey's no medic, but he does know simple first aid, and he does what he can to stem the bleeding as Jason remains largely unresponsive, swimming in and out of consciousness.

Only once he's sure it's stopped does he clean Jason up, tucking him into place on the couch and letting himself rest.

It's hours later that Joey hears a soft tapping and looks up to find Jason's eyes fully open. He looks wary and alarmed, and considering the amount of blood he lost, it's entirely possible he doesn't even remember arriving at the apartment, let alone the medical treatment he received.

 _You with me now?_ Joey signs, and Jason hesitates a moment before nodding.

 _Sorry,_ he signs back. _I wasn't thinking when I came here._

_You're lucky I know first aid. You almost bled out on my floor._

_With how out of it I was, I'm lucky I remembered where you lived and didn't end up on a neighbor's doorstep._

Joey smiles at that, because the idea is funny even if it is a bit traumatizing. He gets up from where he's sitting, moving over to Jason and bending down to ever so lightly tap his side.

_I've never asked about your job before, but I know what a bullet hole looks like, Jason. I don't want to wake up one morning and find out Red Hood's killed you for what you're doing in his territory._

Jason flinches at the mention of the bullet hole, and when Joey finishes signing Jason opens his mouth to speak. What comes out is a wheeze, not a word, and he winces, his eyes flicking away as he takes a second to pull himself together and respond.

 _I didn't mean to hide it from you,_ Jason signs. _It's just work._

 _Work almost got you killed._ Joey resists the urge to press his fingers to the gunshot wound and remind Jason of how close he was. _Find a new job._

 _I'm committed to this one,_ Jason signs back. He's still slower at signing than Joey is, and sometimes needs to finger spell a few words, but he's not bad at all, and waiting for his signs is no longer an exercise in patience. _I swear I'm being safe._

_You got shot. Everyone thinks they're safe from Red Hood until they suddenly aren't._

Jason shakes his head. _It isn't that kind of job,_ he signs. _He's not going to be coming after me._

_And yet you can't tell me what kind of job it is._

Joey isn't stupid. He knows whatever job Jason has, it's probably illegal. If it wasn't, he'd have gone to the hospital rather than nearly died on Joey's doorstep. But his insistence that it isn't the kind of job that'll bring the Red Hood down on him _does_ calm Joey's nerves a little bit, leaving his mind wandering over the options.

The most likely answer is that Jason's security for a less-than-legal but not actually _dangerous_ business. Or that he's working under the table for an otherwise legal establishment. Thinking about it, working security for a brothel would make sense: the Red Hood doesn't like pimps, but he doesn't have any issues with streetwalkers or other sex workers, and Joey's sure that someone in the area is happily providing a safe place for people to meet up with clients.

The fact that he could come up with a solution at all, whether or not it's right, lets Joey relax, the tension easing out of his shoulders.

 _You need to rest while you heal,_ he signs. _You could stay here if you don't want to go back to your place._

Truth be told, Joey's starting to suspect there isn't a _your place._ It's possible Jason just lives with his parents or some particularly nasty roommate, but it's _also_ possible that Jason simply doesn't have a place to live, and with that worst case scenario in mind he's happy to give him an alternative.

 _Alright,_ Jason signs, even if he looks reluctant. _Just for a few days._

That's all Joey really needs.


	4. Chapter 4

Jason takes a week before he goes back to work. A week he spends almost exclusively with Joey. Jason's clearly starved for physical affection, and Joey is all too willing to oblige him, showering him with kisses and attention and letting him sleep away the worst of his injury.

He absolutely _shouldn't_ go back to work after only a week, but he does anyway, because he's stubborn and refuses to stay in bed.

The morning after, Jason shows up at Joey's house again, and Joey's all too happy to let him in.

It establishes a new status quo: one where Jason always _just so happens_ to be in the area after he's done work, and _just so happens_ to wind up sleeping the day away in Joey's bed. His presence isn't particularly disruptive to Joey's lifestyle anyway, and he has plenty of time to do his own work while Jason sleeps.

He doesn't mind the fact that Jason's effectively moved in: really, he enjoys it.

The months move on, and Joey settles into his new life with Jason with ease. 

He learns more about Jason in those months than he has at any other time. He learns about the scars all over his body, and he learns bits and pieces about who he is—and who he was—when Jason makes small little off-hand comments.

He learns Jason grew up on the streets. He learns his mom was an addict and his dad is, in Jasons words, 'probably in jail or something'. He learns that Jason has mixed feelings about Gotham's nighttime protectors: he's not a fan of Batman, but seems tentatively optimistic about the changes that Red Hood is enacting simply via his presence in their part of town.

It's almost been a year since the destruction of Bludhaven when Jason starts to withdraw. It isn't a hard connection to make, considering the news won't talk about anything else, and Jason is not a subtle person about his emotions. It's clear he's upset, and even if he initially rejects Joey's attempts to talk about it, eventually he cracks.

 _It's been a year,_ he signs, his fingers coming up to ghost across the scar on his throat. It's not as bad as it once was, but it's still pretty bad, and Jason refuses to have it minimized. He mostly hides it, wearing high collars or scarves or whatever it takes, but with just the two of them alone in their apartment, he leaves it out in the open for Joey to see.

A year since he was attacked. A year since his voice was taken from him. He hasn't really talked about how it happened, but Joey can figure out some of the details anyway, just from what does and doesn't bother Jason.

It wasn't a random attack. It was someone he knew closely. Probably someone he trusted.

 _You still don't want to talk about it?_ Joey asks. _It helped me to talk about mine._

 _You've never talked about yours,_ Jason signs with a scowl, and Joey rolls his eyes.

 _Not with you. I had a therapist. Had to be confidential, but..._ Joey's absolutely sure the therapist kept his word, because if he hadn't, he'd be dead.

Jason stares at him for a moment, and then offers a weak shrug.

_I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours._

It's a fair trade. A story about a scar for a story about a scar. Joey's fingers dance up his own throat, finding the thin ridge of scar tissue and tracing it. It helps him figure out what he wants to say and how he wants to say it.

 _My parents are rich,_ he says, which is true but not quite the truth. _Eventually, someone grabbed me to ransom back to them. My dad was arrogant and went full_ we don't negotiate with kidnappers, _and they cut my throat in response. I almost died. Ma ended up divorcing him, and now I don't see him much._

Jason stares at him, watching his expressions as he tells the story. The story is near enough to the truth that Joey doesn't feel guilty about the lies it contains. He doesn't think he'll get the whole and complete truth from Jason, anyway.

When Jason finally lifts his hands to tell his own story, his signs are halting, his expression pained.

 _It's hard to explain without telling you the whole story,_ he starts, and Joey doesn't point out that Jason's fully capable of just telling him the whole story. He knows, he just has his reasons for not doing so. _My.... my dad, I guess, did it. He had to choose between me and his job, and he chose his job. He chose his job even though it hurt me really badly. I kept pushing his buttons, trying to get him to change. I kept expecting him to realize how much I was hurting and change his mind. To realize what he was doing to me. But instead, when I made him make one last final choice, he still chose his work._

Joey doesn't get it. Not really. There's obviously a ton of context that he's missing and he's not about to interrupt and ask for it, not when it's so obviously hurting Jason just to get it out.

 _Then he chose wrong,_ Joey signs. _Parents should care about their kids._ He leans over, pressing a kiss to Jason's cheek and watching the hint of a blush that appears with delight.

_Guess we both have crappy fathers._

_No kidding._

The last thing Joey expects to happen is for his _crappy father's_ bad deeds to come knocking, but that's exactly what happens not even a week later. He's on his way back to the apartment from the grocery store at one in the afternoon when a man steps out in front of him, a bandanna pulled up to cover the majority of his face.

"Joseph Wilson?"

Joey knows what he's _supposed_ to say. He's supposed to say _Who_ and look confused like he's never heard that name before. That's best practice because it'll confuse all but the most dedicated of kidnappers, who aren't liable to stop anyway.

But he can't say _who._ The best he can do is look perplexed and scrunch his brow like he's _going_ to ask _who?_ only he doesn't quite sell it as well as he should because he, just like the guy the man in front of him is looking for, is mute.

It doesn't take a genius to figure out he's found the right guy. Joey isn't a slouch—he learned a long time ago how to defend himself—but the moment a gun comes out he knows better than to fight. He isn't his dad. Hell, he isn't even Rose. When a gun comes out, it's _far_ smarter for him to play dumb, go along with what the mugger (assuming he's being mugged) wants, and figure out how to get out of the situation without trying to kick the gun out of his hand or something stupid like that.

Especially since they know his name. The fact that they do means it's related to one of his parents—probably his dad—and that means he's _probably_ not in any immediate danger.

Not that his logic is particularly convincing as his arm is grabbed and he's forced into the back seat of a car. There's at least two—no, three—men involved, which points towards it being a group behind the whole thing. He adds another mental tally to his _I'll probably be fine_ list, but doesn't stop looking for ways out of the situation as his kidnappers take him to... to _wherever_ they're taking him.

It's not like it's the first time he's been kidnapped.

By the time they make it to the warehouse (because of _course_ it's a warehouse), Joey has a pretty good idea of what's going on. They've gagged him and bound his wrists, but he still has his eyes and ears, and they're paying him absolutely no attention. He learns, very quickly, that they're not from the area. From offhand comments, he surmises they're from up in New York, and they're only down in Gotham _just_ for him.

Which could be a very good or very bad thing.

Joey tries not to get too fidgety. He tries not to think about the first time he was kidnapped. He's been through it before. He can deal with it. But that doesn't change how tense he feels as he waits, the seconds ticking by.

"Boss," one of the men says, which helps Joey pick out the ringleader. He isn't very old, which means he's probably just the organized crime equivalent of middle management. "We just lost contact with one of the guys stationed outside."

"Already?" He snaps. "How the hell did he get here so fast?"

"Probably in the area," someone says, and Joey's suddenly happy for the gag. It doesn't change how much or how little he can talk, but it _does_ hide his smile. Slade's coming.

Slade's coming and he's _really_ not happy.


	5. Chapter 5

It hasn't been ten minutes since someone first goes missing when things go sideways... for his kidnappers.

One minute everyone's milling about on high alert, and the next there's a shot and one of the men near Joey simply drops. Someone—not a very smart someone—lunges for Joey with a gun, clearly attempting to put a gun to his head to ensure his safety.

He drops second.

Then there's a _bang_ and a _crash_ and all two hundred and change pounds of a _very_ angry contract killer comes straight through a weak point of the warehouse's wall.

Slade is nothing if not efficient. Joey rarely sees him working (for very good reason), and he's jaded enough that he doesn't feel particularly bad as a pack of criminals who were perfectly willing to kidnap him hit the ground, either dead or wishing they were. But midway through there's something _else._ Joey can't even tell it for it's own sake, only noticing because of the way Slade reacts. Slade's head snaps up, head turning ever so slightly as he scans the warehouse, but that doesn't mean he actually _stops._

No, he carries right on with his slaughter, even if there's obviously something else going on.

Joey doesn't really get a feel for what's going on until Slade bolts for him, most of the kidnappers already dead, and ends up shot in the shoulder.

He springs to the side, narrowly missing a second shot that cracks against the ground, and takes cover behind a support pillar.

"Hood!" Slade yells. "I'm not your enemy this time around."

The room is nearly silent, save for a few quiet groans of pain. Joey bites at the gag pointlessly just to do _something,_ but his hands are both literally and metaphorically tied. He can't intervene. He can't say anything. He has no way to convey to Red Hood that _Deathstroke,_ famed mercenary and all around dangerous man _isn't_ actually a danger to him.

He has to trust Slade to do it for him.

"Hood!" Slade calls out again, quieter. There's no need to yell. Not when it's so quiet that every single thing Slade says is ringing in his ears.

Or maybe his ears are just ringing in general. There have been a lot of gunshots around him, and his hearing isn't quite what it should be right then.

The Red Hood is completely silent. Joey has no idea where he is, and even with Slade's enhanced senses, the way he keeps tilting his head tells Joey that Slade isn't sure where Hood is either. That's probably the point: the moment he speaks, Slade knows just where to shoot.

"The kid they took is my son," Slade says. "I'm not a danger to him, and I'm not fucking around in your territory. I just want to get my kid, drop him off somewhere safe, and then go kill the guys who thought it would be a good idea to take _my_ son hostage."

He sounds very, _very_ angry, and for once Joey feels a spark of joy. Maybe he shouldn't, because a lot of people are dead and even more are going to end up dead before the night is over, but it means Slade is doing something for _him._

Or at least mostly for him. Joey knows his pop would probably describe it as _personal pride_ or something like that, but what matters is that it's _about Joey._

"I'm going to come out, untie him, and he can... I don't know, nod enthusiastically to confirm to you that he's fine going with me," Slade mutters. He pauses, waiting for a warning shot, and when one doesn't come he steps out from behind the pillar and heads for Joey.

He's still bleeding from his shoulder, but it's already slowing, and Joey knows it'll heal without a scar. It doesn't even slow Slade down as he pulls a knife, cutting Joey's bonds before reaching up to remove the gag.

 _Pop,_ Joey signs. _You're alright?_

"I'm fine, Joey. Tell the asshole who shot me you're not scared."

Joey can't. The odds that the Red Hood knows ASL are pretty slim, so he opts instead to look up towards the _general_ area of where Hood probably is and flash a thumbs up.

The only response is silence. For all he knows, Red Hood's already gone, having taken off the moment he shot Deathstroke. It would be, in Joey's opinion, the smart move.

With his hands free, Joey has the option of hugging Slade, and that's exactly what he does. Slade doesn't hug him back, too busy scanning the area for trouble, but eventually decides the trouble's passed.

"Bike's outside," Slade says. "Go stand with it, I'll be out in a bit."

Joey knows what that means, but he's not in the mood to argue, so for once he follows Slade's instructions. It's only once he's outside that he's able to get a better feel for where he is, and realizes with no small amount of surprise that he's not in any area he recognizes. From the few landmarks he can see, they have to be on the far side of Gotham, and when Slade finally emerges—several gunshots later—he asks him as much.

_We're outside Red Hood's territory?_

"Apparently someone getting kidnapped in his area counts as a personal slight against him, because he was here before I was. Someone must have reported what they saw to him."

Joey isn't quite sure what to make of that, but he isn't sure _why._ Nothing that Slade said contradicts what he fundamentally knows about the Red Hood. _Everyone_ knows how territorial he is. Everyone knows how harsh he is on crime. But something about the situation strikes him as strange anyway.

"I'm going to drop you off at your apartment and get going," Slade says. "You should still move."

_Not moving, pop._

"You just got kidnapped, Joey. Everyone would agree now's the perfect time to move."

_Happy where I am, pop._

Joey can't see Slade's face, but he still _knows_ Slade is rolling his eyes at him, and he huffs, slipping onto the bike behind Slade. He's not a big fan of motorcycles, but he knows how to ride one, and the trip back to his apartment isn't half as stressful as the trip to the warehouse was in the first place.

 _Love you pop,_ he signs as he climbs off the motorcycle.

Slade grunts at him. "Consider moving," he says, and then roars off on his bike to go make someone's life a living hell.

Joey's exhausted as he heads up the stairs to his apartment, but it's an equal split for if he's more tired or more hungry. He isn't even a step in the door when Jason's suddenly _there,_ right in Joey's personal bubble and looking upset as his hands start flying.

_Where were you? I woke up and you were gone, and you weren't answering your phone._

His pho— _goddamnit._ Joey furiously pats down his pockets, but his phone is gone. Did he drop it when he got grabbed? Or did they take it at some point? He doesn't even remember, which is probably the clearest indicator of how frazzled he is.

 _I got grabbed,_ he signs. _Some people after my dad. I'm fine, no injuries or anything._

 _You got kidnapped?!_ Jason signs, and Joey has to give him the whole story—or at least a heavily abridged version that doesn't focus quite so much on how many people his dad just killed—before Jason will relax.

 _I just want some food right now,_ Joey signs. _I'm going to need to go pick up some new groceries. Maybe tomorrow._

 _I'll get you some food. Just sit down and rest,_ Jason signs.

Jason plays mother hen to him for the rest of the evening, even when he'd normally be on his way to work. When Joey asks, he simply signs that he's called off for the night, and then makes extra sure Joey's comfortable on the couch as he eats the soup Jason's made for him.

He's been home almost an hour when Jason finally settles down beside him, reaching out to brush one of Joey's curls out of his eyes.

_You're really okay?_

_I'm just fine,_ Joey insists. _My pop had my back, and even if he didn't, Red Hood did. Apparently he's pretty protective of people from his area._ He can't help but grin at that, amused by the idea. _He's a good guy._

 _He could have gotten you killed,_ Jason points out with a frown. Joey's hand lifts up, brushing across Jason's split lip, and then simply smiles at him.

 _Takes more than that to kill me,_ he signs, his hands dropping down to his chest. _I've got a few tricks up my sleeve._

Jason doesn't stop mother henning him, obviously worried by what happened. He goes with Joey when he goes to get a new phone, and he goes with Joey to get groceries. Joey would _probably_ be bothered by how overprotective Jason is being, only it means Jason's far more willing to do things he wasn't ever interested in before.

Joey doesn't miss a chance to drag him off to the nearest art museum and puts the kidnapping out of his mind.


	6. Chapter 6

There's no question that Jason's acting strange, but considering that not _everyone_ is used to dealing with kidnappings semi-regularly, Joey can't entirely blame him. Even so, the hovering wears thin within a few days, and Joey's forced to shoo Jason back to his own work just for some space.

 _I know you're worried,_ he signs, _but I'm not in any danger. I can take care of myself._

_You were kidnapped, Joey._

_I can still handle myself. Letting them take me was just the smartest and safest move I could make._

Jason apparently isn't the only one checking in on him. A few days after the kidnapping, Joey's on his way to a late night gallery opening when he spots a familiar silhouette on a nearby roof. It isn't hard for him to recognize the Red Hood, even in the poor lighting, and he stops in the street, staring up at them. It's hard to see, but he gets the distinct impression they're actually watching _him,_ and after a moment he waves before turning and going on his way. The next time he looks, the Red Hood is gone like he was never there at all.

He mentions it to Jason the next day, who seems surprised—just not by what Joey _thinks_ he should be surprised at.

 _You're just okay with him following you?_ Jason asks, his eyebrows furrowed. _Isn't that suspicious?_

 _He was checking in on me,_ Joey says with a shrug. _Considering he saw me getting kidnapped, I don't think it's weird that he was worried. Or..._ Joey pauses, an uneasy thought blossoming in his mind. _Or he's keeping an eye on me because my dad's trouble._

Jason shifts, suddenly nervous, and when Joey shoots him a hard look he finally cracks.

 _I looked into your dad,_ he signs. _You're Slade Wilson's son, aren't you?_

It's not exactly a huge leap. He's known he was Joseph Wilson for a while, and while Wilson's a common enough name to not _immediately_ lead back to Slade, with everything Jason knows now... well, it's not surprising he'd be able to put two and two together.

 _That's him,_ Joey confirms. _Deathstroke. I understand if it makes you uncomfortable._

_I'm not going to say I'm... completely cool with it or anything, but as far as I'm concerned he's himself and you're yourself. What he does shouldn't affect you._

_Except when it does,_ Joey signs with a sigh. _Like this time._

 _This wasn't your fault,_ Jason insists. _This doesn't change anything._

He leans down, kissing Joey ever so softly. With how tender Jason is being, it's almost painfully easy to fall into bed with him. Jason's nothing if not a considerate lover, and it's the first time they've had a chance to mess around since the kidnapping.

Which is why it's such a _massive_ pain in the ass when Joey hears someone letting themselves in the window.

He hears it at the same time Jason does, and Joey lets out a groan of frustration as he tries to untangle himself from Jason as fast as possible. There's not going to be any hiding the fact that he's sleeping with someone, but at the _very_ least Joey'd prefer his dad not see the two of them mid-fuck.

It turns out to be the absolute last thing Joey needs to be worrying about.

He's just sitting up in bed when Slade pounces. Joey's so caught off guard that he's struggling just to figure out what the hell is going on. It doesn't make any _sense._ One minute he and Jason are tangled up in the bed and the next minute Slade is there, grabbing Jason and bodily hauling him off. With Jason naked and Slade in full armor, Jason doesn't stand a chance, but what Joey doesn't understand is _why._

The only thing he can think of is that Slade _somehow_ thinks that Jason's assaulting him, only that makes absolutely no fucking sense. They're _in Joey's bedroom._ They were making out. The entire thing is equal parts mortifying and horrifying, and only gets worse when Slade, apparently not satisfied having literally dragged Jason out of bed, throws him against the wall, pins him by the neck, and starts to squeeze.

Joey tries to call out, but there's no sound, and he's forced to scramble across the bed as fast as he can, grabbing at Slade's shoulder. It's like trying to force a boulder to move, and Slade doesn't give an inch.

 _Pop,_ he signs desperately. Jason's doing exactly what he should be doing, finding just the right places to apply pressure to try and force Slade to release him, only Slade isn't operating at a human level, and with armor in the way and no way to get to his feet, Jason's struggling as he slowly goes blue.

 _Pop!_ Joey signs again, throwing his hands literally in front of Slade's helmet. _Let him go!_

He doesn't. But what he does is even more confusing than what started the whole mess. Slade reaches down, catching Jason's chin, and forcibly wrenches his head back, exposing his neck. He releases his grip on Jason's throat just for a moment—just long enough for Jason to manage a single gasping breath—and then drops his hand down, squeezing again.

It gives him a perfect view of Jason's scar, and he's clearly inspecting it as Joey attempts to drag him off Jason.

 _He's my boyfriend,_ he furiously signs. _Let him go!_

"So that's why," Slade says, speaking for the first time since he let himself into the room. "Here I was thinking you'd wised up, but instead..."

_Pop!_

Slade abruptly drops Jason, his knees cracking on the apartment floor as he doubles over, wheezing for air and trying to catch his breath. Joey follows him down, trying to check if he'll be alright, but even at a glance he knows Jason's going to have a massive hand-shaped bruise on his throat in a few hours. Only once he's sure Jason's alright—his throat hasn't collapsed or anything—does he look up at his father, murder in his eyes.

_You let yourself into my apartment, attacked my boyfriend, and then left him bruised and gasping for air. What the hell are you thinking?_

Whatever positive feelings Slade had managed to earn saving him from the kidnapping are gone in an instant.

"If you were going to fuck around with one of the bat's kids, you could have at least picked the hot one."

It is in no way a smart move, but Joey isn't thinking about what is or isn't a smart move when he decides to punch his dad in the face. Even with the mask in the way he's sure Slade _feels_ it, but Joey feels it more, his knuckles cracking against his father's helmet. It's insulting. It's insulting, and Slade's just come in and assaulted Jason, and—

Hold on, _the what's kids?_

He looks to Jason, but Jason just looks away, refusing to make eye contact. With no answers forthcoming, he looks to Slade, who tips his head back and _laughs._

"Oh hell, he didn't even tell you? Great relationship the two of you have." He turns, regarding Jason where he's hunched on the floor, and then delivers the hammer blow. "Your boy here's the Red Hood."

It takes Joey a few seconds of absolute silence to process what he's just heard. It sounds preposterous. It sounds absurd. There's absolutely no way in hell that Jason—a boy so tender that he tears up if Joey kisses him too much—could be the Red Hood.

But at the same time, it feels impossible to deny it. His father is many things, but he's not the sort of person who would make something like that up. The facts themselves also fit too neatly. The transition from wise-cracking bastard to completely silent angel of death: the timing matches squarely with when Jason was injured. Even more recently, the Red Hood's been less brutal, and that lines up with Jason being more relaxed in his day to day life.

But it means Jason's been lying to him. It means he's lied to him a _lot._

It means his _job_ isn't a job: it's being the Red Hood. It means he knew Joey was kidnapped and pretended like he had no idea.

Joey takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and points towards the window before signing to Slade.

 _Out,_ he signs, leaving no room for argument or debate. _This is my apartment, and you just assaulted my boyfriend. Out._

He's sure Slade looks smug beneath his mask, and it shows in the way he swaggers to the window, letting himself out without so much as a backwards glance.

Joey stalks after him, slamming the window shut behind him.

Maybe it _is_ time he moves.

He takes a deep breath before turning back to Jason. He's still in the floor, his eyes downcast, but when Joey taps his foot Jason's eyes come up, snapping to his hands like it's a totally normal day. Like everything is normal.

 _Why don't we both get dressed and... get cleaned up,_ he signs. _Then we can... talk this out._

He doesn't even know what he'll say. His head is still spinning as realization after realization snaps into place. The fact that the Red Hood _could_ have understood his signs. The fact that the Red Hood watching him was just Jason being overprotective.

He just needs a minute.

Or maybe more than a minute.


	7. Chapter 7

Joey feels like everything is spinning out of control, but he knows that's wrong. Things already span out of control. The crash has already happened, and now he needs to figure out just how bad the damage is.

Jason is the Red Hood. He's _always_ been the Red Hood, since before Joey even met him. That one fact seems to outweigh all the others, and he winds up replaying every conversation about the Red Hood they've ever had in his head.

It's impossible not to feel lied to. Not when he was, in fact, literally lied to.

So he takes his time. He processes. He cleans himself up and gets dressed and drinks some water.

Only then does he sit down on the couch, his hands folded together in his lap, and wait for Jason.

Jason doesn't make him wait long. He looks withdrawn and deeply upset as he settles into the chair across from Joey, chewing on his lip, his eyes downcast for the first few moments.

Only when Jason's eyes come up does Joey finally start the conversation they've needed to have for ages.

 _You're Red Hood,_ Joey signs, and Jason nods. _You knew who my dad was the whole time._

Maybe he did. Maybe he didn't. But Joey needs to know that _first._ Too much of his life has been dictated by his parents presence in his life, and if Jason only approached him because of who his dad is...

 _No!_ Jason signs, furiously shaking his head as he scrambles to explain himself. _I didn't know who you were until you got kidnapped. I knew Slade's name, but I thought you being a Wilson was a coincidence. It's not an uncommon name._

Joey allows himself to relax, the worst case scenario averted. It wasn't all a pretense. It was real, even if there were lies.

_What did pop mean when he said something about you being the Bat's kid?_

Joey knows he's asked the right (or wrong) question by the way Jason reacts. His shoulders hunch forward slightly, his posture defensive. He's wary. It's not something he wants to talk about.

But he's going to have to. There's no way for them to move forward without laying it all on the table. There needs to be _truth,_ even if it hurts. Even if it's killing Jason already and he hasn't even started talking.

 _Batman took me in,_ Jason signs, and each sign is slow and halting. _Before that I was living on the streets. I was the second Robin._

Joey's head is spinning. Jason was _Robin?_ _The Robin?_ Joey knows about Robin because of _course_ he knows about Robin, but trying to fit Jason into that box just... isn't working. He can't even imagine it.

_I owe him my life. He was the closest thing I ever had to a father. But I also owe him my death._

It's not a sentence Joey ever thought he'd hear. It doesn't make sense... but then neither does half the things his father is involved in.

_I was lonely and desperate, so when I found out where my real mom was I went to find her. I thought we could be a family. Instead she sold me out to the Joker. He bashed my head in and let me die._

Joey doesn't think it's possible to express how horrified he is. That Jason _died._ He doesn't understand, but he's horrified anyway, and he reaches out across the coffee table to take Jason's hand, just for a moment, and give it a squeeze.

He wishes he could keep holding onto his hand. He wishes he could keep supporting him that way. But holding his hand is silencing him, and he has to let Jason go.

_When I came back... a lot happened, and maybe one day I'll tell you about it. But what matters is that when I came back, the Joker was still alive. He was out in the world, doing the same stuff he'd been doing before I died. It was like my death hadn't even changed anything. I took one of his old identities and became the Red Hood. I thought... I thought that Batman's methods were out of date. That he was doing things the wrong way. I wanted to prove him wrong. To show him that this way made things better._

Joey agrees. He's never had anything against Batman before, but he's also never really thought he was _being the best he could be_ or anything like that. His staunch _no killing ever_ seems to get in his way more than it ever actually helps.

_He investigated. He found out who he was. But he just left me. He didn't say anything, or do anything. He didn't... I thought he'd cry, you know? His son came back from the dead, and instead he seemed more upset by the fact that I shot a literal Nazi in the head. Every death matters to him except mine. So I tried to force his hand. I kidnapped the Joker. I asked Batman why he hadn't killed him. And he gave me the same explanation he always gave people: that if he ever started killing he could never stop. And I told him that it was bullshit and I made him choose. I put a gun to the Joker's head._

Jason raises his head, staring at Joey for a long, long pause. He looks broken, like his heart's been cracked in half and hollowed out, and Joey knows, even before he says it, how the story ends.

_It should have been an easy choice. Your son who's trying to make the world a better place, or a lunatic clown who's killed hundreds of people. Who killed your son! That's not even a choice. If you asked a hundred people in the street right now they'd all have the same answer, but you know what he did when I put the choice to him?_

Joey reaches up, his fingers trailing across the scar on Jason's neck. He knows. He knows because the scar is so distinct and unusual. He's always wondered why it seems like Jason was stabbed twice, and now he knows: he was only hit once, but the blade was a strange shape. A batarang.

Jason lets out a wheezing, broken laugh. He knows that Joey knows, but he signs the words anyway.

 _He put a batarang in my neck. I thought I was going to bleed out and die. I barely survived, and when I did recover I realized I couldn't talk. My entire persona was about being_ quippy _with criminals, and suddenly I couldn't even say a single word. But what mattered more was Bruce himself. I didn't want to believe it, but it was impossible to ignore. He cared more about the cause then he ever cared about me. Maybe more than he'd ever cared about anyone._

Joey leans up and kisses Jason as softly as he can manage. There are tears in the corner of Jason's eyes, and Joey gets the impression that he's only barely holding himself together.

_You brought me back. After I recovered, all I was... I was just the Red Hood. I wasn't Jason anymore. I couldn't talk to anyone. I didn't know what to say, and I couldn't say it if I knew. When I saw you in the bar, that was the first time I'd spoken to someone since I woke up after the fight._

Joey doesn't point out that Jason's effectively given away Batman's identity. It doesn't matter. He's not going to do anything with it, and he's sure that Slade knows the truth already anyway.

 _You saved me,_ Jason signs, and Joey can't stop himself from leaning forward, cupping Jason's face in his hands and kissing him again.

 _You saved yourself,_ Joey mouths.

Jason leans forward, and Joey gives up on sitting, closing the space between them as he wraps his arms around Jason's shoulders. He's still angry that Jason kept it from him, but that sharp edge is gone. It's impossible to maintain that level of anger knowing what Jason's been through. Knowing _why_ he kept the secret.

In truth, Joey can't really blame him for it at all.


	8. Chapter 8

They spend the night curled up against each other. Jason is all hard lines and soft noises as Joey makes a point of showing Jason he's loved, and when they wake together the following morning something has fundamentally changed.

There's no more lies.

When Jason goes to leave the following evening, he hesitates at the door and then, for the first time, explains himself.

 _I'm going to head to my safehouse,_ he signs. _Then maybe patrol down on the west side. There's a drug dealer I want a word with who's supposed to be in that area._

 _Be safe,_ Joey signs to him, and Jason smiles as he goes.

That evening they talk about it, and it feels, in a strange way, almost _normal._ It's like a boyfriend coming home from work and talking about his day, only it's happening at seven in the morning when Jason gets back to the apartment.

 _I thought you were homeless, you know,_ Joey signs with a grin, and Jason huffs.

_I'm not homeless. I just have safehouses with a lot of weapons and that seemed like a bad place to bring your date._

_No kidding._

Joey lets Jason get some rest and goes back to his normal routine.

It's mid afternoon by the time he realizes he should probably call Slade, a fact which is significantly more trouble than it should be. He ends up sending a text to Wintergreen to get him to pass on a message, and an hour later he gets a time and a place.

He's not stupid enough to sneak out, so he wakes Jason (who's already on the verge of waking up anyway) and lets him know what's going on.

 _Are you sure that's a good idea?_ Jason signs, looking apprehensive.

 _He's my pop,_ Joey points out. _He's not any danger to me._

Just everyone around him. The bruises on Jason's throat have blossomed into a violent shade of purple, and every time he swallows Joey can see Jason wincing.

 _I'm not sure about that,_ Jason signs. _He's a dangerous man._

 _So are you,_ Joey points out. _I'll be alright._

He kisses Jason's forehead and leaves no further room for argument. He only just makes it to the meeting place Wintergreen's given him in time, and isn't surprised to find that it's a fairly busy diner. Slade isn't there, but like clockwork he arrives only a minute after Joey, grabbing them a booth in the corner that gives them some privacy.

Not that it matters. The odds that anyone's going to know ASL _and_ be trying to spy are slim.

"You're lucky I'm still in town."

_Considering I'm only here because you were in town, I don't think that's luck, pop. Are you not going to ask how Jason is?_

"Not dead, or you'd be a lot angrier," Slade says dryly. "He's fine. He's had worse."

Joey narrows his eyes and Slade snorts in response.

"You still with him?"

_Did you even know who he was when you decided to throw him off me?_

"I knew his two names, but I didn't know that was who he was. I just saw a guy on top of you and acted."

_Next time don't. Consider knocking at the front door instead._

"What if he was hurting you?"

Joey rolls his eyes at that, because it's a complete non-issue. Joey can handle himself, and the odds that he'll be in such serious trouble that he needs help at the exact same time Slade decides to climb in his window... well, it's not realistic.

 _I want you to stay away from him,_ Joey signs. _You literally attacked him, pop._

"He's a dangerous guy, and anywhere he goes brings trouble. I don't want him near you."

_You don't get that choice. I'm an adult, I can make my own decisions, and I'm staying with Jason._

"His dad—"

_I know who his dad is already. He told me the whole story._

"That his dad is—"

Joey mimes a bat, and Slade leans back in his seat, making a pointed _hmmm_ as he considers. Obviously Slade had assumed Jason wasn't going to share that little detail with Joey, and now he's not quite sure what to make of the situation.

_I'm serious, pop. Stay away from him._

"You're asking me for three favors here," Slade says. "You're asking me to leave him alone on a personal level, but you're also asking me not to take any contracts on him, or do any jobs in his area. That's a big ask, considering his territory is in Gotham, and half the jobs pass through it—"

_You can afford it, pop. It would cost you nothing to do as I'm asking you._

"What am I getting out of it?"

Joey has absolutely no idea what to offer him. What does his dad even want? Joey can't offer him work or money, and those are his dad's main motivators.

_You obviously have something in mind._

"I want you checking in. If you hadn't been radio silent for so long, I wouldn't have to let myself in to your apartment. And Joey, I want the _truth."_

Slade's expression right then is dangerous. He'll know if Joey lies, one way or another. Slade _always_ finds out.

 _Fine,_ Joey signs. _I'll check in with you._

"That's all I'm asking. I don't think it's a crazy thing to ask. Parents want to know what their kids are up to."

Joey rolls his eyes yet again at that, because sometimes he struggles to even accept that his dad is _real._ He's far from a normal parent. He literally choked Jason out _two days ago,_ he doesn't have any ground to stand on.

 _Just remember this promise, alright?_ Joey signs. _I just want to have some space for us. The farther Jason is from all that... hero stuff, the better._

"Eventually the Bat's going to come knocking, you know."

Joey can't growl, but he does the closest equivalent, and Slade's eyebrows go up, obviously surprised by the venom in Joey's motions.

 _He can go fuck himself,_ Joey signs. _If he's got any braincells at all, he'll stay far away from Jason._

"Who knew you'd be so protective."

_He needs protecting._

"I'm not sure anyone else would agree to that," Slade says, folding his arms over his chest.

_Then they're wrong._

The rest of the meal goes by without any mention of Jason. They talk about other things—about Rose and Adeline—and then Slade declares he needs to go.

"Job over in DC," Slade says with a wave of his hand. "Then I'm heading out west. You might not see me for a while."

Joey's not going to shed any tears over _that._

"Remember your promise," Slade says firmly.

_Remember yours._

Slade does. He's good to his word, if nothing else: Joey keeps him (generally) up to speed with what's happening in his life, and Slade stays out of their part of town.

It's a small price to pay to keep Jason off Slade's radar, and if Joey's being honest with himself?

Well, he doesn't actually hate catching up with his pop once a week.


	9. Chapter 9

From that point on, there's always a little voice in the back of Joey's mind reminding him that things could go south at any time. Eventually, Joey knows, all of Jason's demons are going to come home to roost. Eventually, the Bats are going to come knocking at his door. Eventually they'll have to deal with them.

But not right then.

Right then they're left blissfully alone and allowed to fix what was broken by the lies. They're allowed to put everything back together the way it should have been from the start.

They're allowed to move forward.

 _I want to take you on a date,_ Joey signs late one evening, months after that first disastrous game of _meet the parents._

 _We went to the movies three days ago,_ Jason signs, looking perplexed. His signs have improved, picking up speed as he becomes more comfortable with them.

_Not that kind of date. A real date. Where I take you out and show you off._

Jason's cheeks go pink, but he doesn't outright reject the idea like he once might have. _I don't have anything to wear,_ he signs instead.

 _We both have plenty of money,_ Joey points out. _You can afford a suit. I know just the place._

Needless to say the place isn't in the ass end of Gotham, but closer to downtown. Jason seems wary (as he always does) being out of his territory, but no one bothers them when Joey takes Jason to his favorite tailor for a fitting. With his hair sorted out and a suit on, Jason looks _extremely_ handsome, and Joey can't stop smiling to himself as he looks Jason over.

 _Are you going to tell me where we're going?_ Jason asks.

 _No,_ Joey signs. _Let it be a surprise._

The surprise doesn't actually arrive for three more days. It's late Friday evening and Joey can tell Jason's eager to be out as Red Hood, but he goes along with Joey anyway as they head downtown in their suits. Joey's own is perfectly tailored and frequently worn, but he swaps his cuff links for small red gems and watches the way Jason delights in looking at them. They're like a secret message just between the two of them.

Joey pulls up in front of the party and gets out, letting the valet take the keys. Jason looks uncomfortable as he watches the car go, but slides up to Joey, sticking close to his side.

_Where is this, exactly? I don't know this area._

Jason's so far outside of his comfort zone it isn't even funny, so Joey wraps an arm around his shoulders and guides him inside, taking the lead.

It's an art gallery in the midst of opening a new show. There's hundreds of people all around, all dressed to the nines, and a doorman who wants to take their names. Joey simply flashes his ID instead and is given two little pins, one for each of them, that they wear on their lapels as they head inside.

He isn't used to seeing Jason so nervous, and he rubs Jason's upper arm comfortingly as they head farther into the gallery. It's a mix of mediums, but almost every piece is a landscape, and the gallery is organized by place. There's a room just for Gotham, and one for America, and another for Europe. The pieces are all top quality, and once they're near the gallery itself rather than the main room where everyone is mingling Jason seems to relax. He lets himself pull away, inspecting the pieces as Joey splits off, grabbing them each a flute of champagne as he returns to Jason.

Jason is, of course, standing in front of a particular piece in the Europe room, staring at it so intensely Joey wonders if the painting's about to catch on fire. He taps Jason's shoulder and hands him the glass, and Joey turns, his eyebrows furrowed together in confusion (and maybe a bit of annoyance) as he balances the glass in the crook of his arm to sign.

 _That's yours,_ he signs, nodding his head towards the painting. _That's your name on it._

 _I made it last month,_ Joey signs, and then drains his champagne flute because apparently Jason's far more intent on talking than he thought.

_I didn't know you painted._

_What did you think I was doing in the spare room this whole time?_ Joey hasn't exactly made it a secret, even if they never really talked about it. He assumed Jason knew and just didn't care, but he seems to be genuinely caught off guard about... well, everything.

 _Sleeping?_ Jason suggests with a shrug, and Joey _wheezes_ with laughter at the idea.

_No one sleeps that much, babe._

"Joey!" A voice calls, and Joey turns to find the gallery owner zipping towards them. Probably for the best, because he's the only one who knows even a shred of ASL on staff. "Is this the boy you've been talking about?"

 _This is Jason,_ he signs, nodding to Jason. _I was just showing him around._

The owner is far from fluent, taking a bit of time to process each sign, and Joey slows his signs to let him catch up. But he gets the idea, turning to Jason and introducing himself enthusiastically.

"Everything's going well, of course," he adds. "Several purchase offers for your pieces. And you said you were staying in the area?"

 _That's the plan,_ Joey confirms. _I'll be here for the foreseeable future._

Maybe _foreseeable_ is too specific a sign for the gallery owner to get, but the context makes it clear enough.

"Well, I need to go socialize, but it'll be good to have your work in the next show. I'm going to need the piece you were entering by next week—"

It's a lot of small-talk, and Joey watches Jason drift off, working his way around the gallery, looking at each piece as he goes. It feels good to share it with Jason, and even better that he seems willing to be involved. It's a big part of Joey's life, and having him there for it feels... good. Satisfying.

Joey makes a few more greetings (which is mostly politely nodding, gesturing to his throat, and excusing himself purely through gestures) before he finds Jason standing in front of his large piece in the Gotham room. It's a landscape looking at Gotham from the view of a boat coming in, and Jason stares at it with rapt attention as Joey joins him.

_Your work is so... so good. How did I not know you could paint like this?_

_You've been busy,_ Joey points out. _You do have other things on your mind._

_But you've been painting in the other room and I had no idea!_

_I wasn't exactly obvious about it. And I don't always paint in there. I have a studio I visit sometimes. A lot of the time it's just a matter of... waiting for inspiration, and you've been very helpful in that regard._

He leans over, kissing Jason's neck, and Jason casts a quick glance around before returning the gesture.

 _You look so good in that suit,_ Joey signs. _Can't wait to get you out of it._

Jason somehow manages to stay flushed for the rest of the night, helped by Joey constantly making discreet but _very_ lewd comments where no one else can see. By the time they leave that night Jason looks wound to the point of snapping, and Joey _knows_ he's in for a fun time.

Which is just the way he likes it.


	10. Chapter 10

Things get better. The part of town Jason calls his own becomes quieter, less violent. No one wants to fight Red Hood, and few of the usual suspects are willing to step out of line there. Jason has more nights off, and more time spent with Joey as a result.

And Joey isn't going to let it go to waste. He takes Jason out more, to shows or openings or just other social events. He establishes himself in the Gotham art scene in a way he never could before, moving around too frequently to gain a reputation.

Now he has one. He's known for his landscapes and for his portraits, and even if no one knows why, everyone knows he's mute. Jason becomes a part of his own story, the sad, rough looking man that goes with Joey to shows. Joey isn't above using his muteness to his advantage, making it a part of his mystique.

A newspaper article calls them the _silent duo,_ and Joey finds that he likes the title.

But their increased presence around Gotham is bound to backfire eventually, and almost a year and a half since they first got together it finally does.

It's a charity gala, complete with a well known (and well loved) silent art auction. All the artists are in attendance, accepting comments and praise from the wealthy donors who are going to shell out six or even seven figures for their work, and of course Jason's there too, sticking near Joey so they aren't separated.

And then Jason goes stiff.

Joey's head snaps up, his eyes scanning the crowd, and without meaning to his eyes glide right over the problem the first time around, losing him in a sea of suits.

Bruce Wayne. Bruce Wayne, coming right towards them.

 _I got it,_ Joey signs, stepping in front of Jason, placing himself right between them. There's no way Bruce is going to be willing to cause a scene in public, but that doesn't mean he can't make things uncomfortable for them. They're well outside Jason's territory, and while Joey isn't stupid enough to think Joey is there _unarmed,_ whatever he has is discrete enough to hide under his suit without being spotted.

"Jason," Bruce calls, just quiet enough to draw Jason's focus but not enough to actually draw anyone's attention. He tries to sidestep Joey, but Joey simply slides along with him, not letting him past.

Bruce stops short, looking him over like he's never even given him a glance before.

"Sorry," he finally says. "This is a personal matter."

 _You aren't talking with him,_ Joey signs. Bruce _must_ know ASL. There's no way he doesn't. He's _Batman_ for god's sake.

"I have things to discuss—"

 _You aren't talking with him,_ Joey signs again. _You've done enough damage. Go talk to someone else._

Bruce's expression darkens just a shade.

"I'm sorry, who are you?"

 _Jason's boyfriend,_ he signs. _You aren't talking with him._

"He's my son." Bruce seems completely convinced that him being Jason's _father_ should be enough to give him access, but the fact that Joey doesn't even waver seems to take him momentarily aback.

 _You've done enough damage,_ Joey signs again. Bruce keeps glancing towards Jason, but Joey can't risk glancing over his shoulder to see how Jason's taking it. He already knows the answer is _badly._ He doesn't really need to look.

"I don't think that's your decision to make."

Bruce attempts to walk by him again, but Joey steps in his way once again. They're playing chicken, only Joey isn't backing down—Bruce actually bumps him, surprised that Joey didn't move, and has to back up, his brow furrowed. It's like he doesn't get it. It's like he doesn't understand what he's dealing with.

_I was invited, and I had a plus one. He's got every right to be here, and I'm not going to have you bothering him._

"He is—"

_Your son. I know. I'm not moving, so move along and find someone else to hassle._

Bruce steps in closer, his voice dropping.

"I don't know what Jason's told you about me, or about himself, but he isn't who you think he is."

_I know exactly who he is. Do you?_

Joey weighs the odds it'll come to blows. He doesn't think Bruce is stupid enough to try it, but he's looking more and more frustrated by the second. At least a few people are looking, but they're not drawing serious attention or anything of the sort.

"Jason is a murderer," Bruce says, and it's clear from his tone that he fully expects Joey to gasp in surprise and let him by. He doesn't. It's nothing he didn't already know.

 _The difference between you and Jason is that Jason's head isn't up his own ass,_ Joey signs, and Bruce's face goes red.

"I _am_ going to talk to him," he says. "We _are_ going to have that conversation, one way or another. You standing here isn't going to change that. The only thing you can do is delay it."

 _You took his voice,_ Joey signs, and the flinch in Bruce's face... it means something. It's not complete confusion, but... if Joey had to guess, it's something he's learned only recently. The information is still raw. _You stole away his ability to have that conversation with you. You don't have any right to speak to him._

Bruce doesn't back down, but deep down Joey knew he wasn't going to anyway. Bruce is stubborn, but so is he, and Joey has absolutely no plan on backing down either.

 _I'll make this easy for you,_ Joey signs, his eyes locked on Bruce's face. _Leave. Don't bother Jason and I again._

"Or what?" Bruce says, folding his arms across his chest.

Just for a second, he's practically Slade's mirror image, the arrogant demeanor identical.

_Or I ruin you._

Bruce snorts. He doesn't believe it for a second, and that much is painfully clear. He has every reason not to. He obviously has no idea who Joey is or what he's capable of. Joey isn't particularly muscular, and he doesn't display any of the mannerisms that are so obvious in trained fighters.

So Bruce simply steps forward, aiming to brush Joey aside.

Joey makes eye contact for just a second, and that's all he needs.

Bruce freezes, just for half a second, and then straightens up. Joey's taken control, slipping into Bruce's mind as easily as slipping on a glove. He can see Jason's face frozen in horror and fear standing just behind his own body, and he reaches out, resting a hand on his own body's shoulder as he focuses on Jason.

"Take care of Joey for a moment, will you?"

He doesn't wait to see what Jason does. His body isn't going to fall over or anything like that—he can manage to stay upright for the few minutes he needs.

The gala is being hosted by the Smiths, and he locates Ms. Smith easily, heading straight for her. He gives her a warm smile as he cuts into the conversation, not at all bothered by the rudeness of his actions.

"Ms. White?" He asks. "I know the stage is supposed to be for auction announcements only, but I don't suppose I could borrow it for a moment for an announcement of my own?"

"Of course not Bruce," she says immediately. It's clear she thinks that the charity is about to get a sizable donation coming their way, and Joey lets her think that as she guides them up towards the stage, taking the microphone and clearing her throat to draw everyone's attention.

The room goes quiet—or at least subdued—and over the heads of everyone else Joey can see Jason standing stock still, staring up at him in confusion.

Joey winks in Jason's direction and accepts the microphone.

"Yes, thank you Ms. White," he says. "It's been an excellent event this evening, and I thought it appropriate to make the whole thing a bit more memorable. Really give the papers something to chew on, you know?"

Half the audience isn't even paying attention, but they're certainly going to wish they were in a moment.

"So I thought it would be an appropriate time to announce that I'm actually Batman."

Joey jumps back to his own body a blink later. Considering how his power works, Bruce is no doubt left standing on the stage with no memory of what happened since he was grabbed, and Joey can only _imagine_ how confused he must be.

Joey's only regret is that they really shouldn't stick around to see the mayhem. Back in his own body he grabs Jason's hand, pulling him along as they head for the door as fast as possible. There's a not insignificant chance that Bruce is already after them, and Joey's eager to be gone. He trades his claim check for the keys and heads straight to the valet lot himself, towing an extremely confused Jason along with him. He doesn't give himself a second to breathe until they're in the car, and then he turns, cupping Jason's face in his hands and leaning forward to kiss him.

Jason kisses back, but he breaks it after a moment, signing desperately.

_What was that?! Did you make him do that?_

_A little trick I picked up courtesy of the experiments they did on pop,_ Joey explains. _I like to keep it in my pocket for situations like this. Always fun when it catches them off guard._

Joey expects more questions. Instead, Jason leans desperately forward, kissing him again and again and again until Joey has to pull him off to actually drive home.

 _He's not going to be happy,_ Joey signs once they're safely home. _You know he's going to come after you at some point._

Jason just smiles at him.

 _We can take him,_ he signs. _And I think he's going to be busy cleaning up the mess you made._

Joey doesn't—can't, really—miss the _we._ They're a _we,_ a unit, a tag team. Jason might not be able to take Bruce alone, but the two of them together?

Easy as pie.

 _Bruce might have taken my voice,_ he signs, each one slow and methodical, _but you gave it back._

The only answer Joey can think of is to kiss Jason again, and Jason seems perfectly happy with that.


End file.
